


Summertime Strawberry Wine, Wishing on Every Star That You Were Mine

by providentialeyes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because Fuck It, Crushes, Disordered Eating, Domestic, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Heavy Petting, Hypersexuality, Kissing, Making Out, Other, Rating will go up, Self-Worth Issues, farmhand john, non-binary john marston, ranchhand charles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: “Be quiet,” Charles grumbles then blinks as a mug is put under his face, “Is this for me?”“Yeah? You ain’t had any yet, right?”“It’s in one of your mugs.”“And?” John asks thinly, he hadn’t even noticed, he’d given Charles one of his favorite mugs, a classic coffee cup shape covered in old newspaper funnies.“You don’t let Arthur use your mugs.”“He- I-” John makes a small noise of frustration and sets the mug down on the counter next to the stove, “Does it matter?”“I guess not,” Charles says slowly, then smiles lightly at John, like he’s in on a secret John doesn’t know, “Thanks.”
Relationships: John Marston/Charles Smith
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of this centers around charles walking in on john when john isn't wearing a shirt and thinks he's alone, it's not super dysphoria heavy, more of just an embarrassing moment, but they do talk about this after the fact since john's acting a bit strange towards Charles from that embarrassment

“I’m sorry.”

“ _John_ ,” Charles huffs, quiet and amused, leaning back on the deck steps to look up at the younger, “I said it’s fine.”

“I know, s’just… We had that whole thing planned, then Dutch called Arthur away and like half the gang managed to get food poisonin’ from the same place and just-” John huffs, in opposition to Charles’, loud and angry. 

“It’s my birthday, and I’m not mad, so you aren’t allowed to be either,” Charles says, barely keeping the corners of his lips from turning up into a smile. 

John looks down from the cloudy sky at the older man and quirks his lips unhappily then pauses. 

“Wait…” John mutters and struggles to his feet, heading to the house. 

“John?”

“I said wait!” The younger calls back from in the house, some clattering in the kitchen, the fridge opening and closing. 

John reappears with a ribbon-wrapped red box, condensation forming immediately from the hot and humid night. 

“What’s that?” Charles asks, sitting up a bit to turn towards the younger as John comes and sits on the step just above and behind him, holding the box out. 

Charles raises one brow at John and slowly takes the box, scooting off the ribbons holding it closed. 

“Oh,” Charles blinks at the array of chocolate-covered strawberries, “For me?”

“Yeah, you… Dutch sent some for Christmas and… I uh, remembered you liked them, so I hinted that to Dutch when we were talking about your birthday and well, he sent some,” John stumbles through the confession quickly, and Charles’ brows furrow lightly at the flush on John’s cheeks. 

“Surprised you remembered,” Charles says slowly, “But thank you?”

“Thank Dutch,” John mumbles and drops his eyes to his hands where they’re clasped together in his lap. 

“Would he have sent them, had you not reminded him?” 

“... Maybe.”

“Thank you, John,” Charles says gently, seriously.

John flusters further, shrugging and scooting to the edge of the step to recline and look up at the patches of stars peeking through the clouds. 

John hears the crinkling of the little paper cups and the quiet sounds of Charles eating, the older man humming softly in enjoyment. 

John swallows roughly and stares at the sky. 

Charles had been wearing a sweater John had never seen before, light tan, excruciatingly inviting and warm. 

John couldn’t remember what made him look over, but he caught Charles taking a bite of one of those strawberries, standing to the side of the refrigerator. 

It was stupid and gross and John felt guilty about it for weeks, that his gut filled with warmth watching Charles’ expression of pleasure, and then his smile, aimed at something Arthur said. 

Guilt, and jealousy. 

“Do you want one?”

John lifts his head to look at Charles, who’s holding out one of the paper cups, a perfect-looking chocolate-covered strawberry in it. 

“They’re for you?”

“And I’m offering you one,” Charles says, a bit wryly, “It’s not like there aren’t enough.”

John presses his lips together and takes the cup, mumbling. 

“Thanks.”

Charles smiles lightly and picks out another for himself, and John doesn't mean to stare as the tip of Charles' tongue peeks out, before his lips wrap around it and he takes a bite and-

John bites into his own quickly, dropping his gaze just to stop himself from saying anything stupid. 

\-- 

He dreams of lips shiny with strawberry juice and those lips leaving sticky kisses all over his body. 

\-- 

It’s a struggle to meet Charles’ eyes later that morning but he manages, as they cross paths in the kitchen and John peers over the older man’s shoulder. 

“What _is_ that?” 

“Hollandaise?” 

“... What?” John asks flatly, “Food?”

“Eggs benedict?”

“You’re makin’... Okay, alright, you do that Birthday Boy,” John trails off in disbelief before beelining to the coffee maker. 

“It’s not that fancy,” Charles mutters as he whisks the sauce. 

“S’called ‘ _eggs_ _benedict_ ’,” John huffs and glances around to see if Charles has gotten himself coffee before pouring the older man a mugful as well, mimicking the other man while adding a hoity-toity accent, “‘ _Hollandaise_.’”

“Be quiet,” Charles grumbles then blinks as a mug is put under his face, “Is this for me?”

“Yeah? You ain’t had any yet, right?”

“It’s in one of your mugs.”

“And?” John asks thinly, he hadn’t even noticed, he’d given Charles one of his favorite mugs, a classic coffee cup shape covered in old newspaper funnies.

“You don’t let Arthur use your mugs.”

“He- I-” John makes a small noise of frustration and sets the mug down on the counter next to the stove, “Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” Charles says slowly, then smiles lightly at John, like he’s in on a secret John doesn’t know, “Thanks.”

John feels his face flushing and he mumbles a ‘whatever’ then heads out for a smoke. 

\--

There’s something comforting about laying in the sun-warmed grass.

Not long enough that it starts to itch, but long enough that the warmth of the ground starts seeping into the soles of his feet, the length of his spine. 

“John?”

He sits up quickly, throwing an arm over his chest and turning to look up at Charles on the steps of the deck.

“Uh… Sorry,” Charles says slowly, holds up the re-filled hummingbird feeder in explanation.

“It’s… Fine,” John says quietly, laying back down, keeping his arm over his chest, “Didn’t know you were home, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Charles says quietly as he comes closer to hang the feeder up, “You got sunscreen?”

“No…”

“You gonna stay out here much longer?”

“No, I- I’ll go in,” John says cautiously, “Soon.”

“Okay… Arthur’s bringing back something for dinner.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Charles glances at him then makes his way back up to the house. 

John yanks his shirt back on and covers his face with a groan. 

\--

“Hey,” Arthur murmurs as he’s passing John in the hallway, “Somethin’ happen?”

“What?”

“You and Charles, kinda seemed off at dinner.”

“Oh… Uh, I was out back, and he saw me.”

“Out back?” Arthur frowns at him in confusion and then lets out a small breath, “Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Was... “ Arthur’s brows furrow and he glances in the direction of the living room where Charles is, “He wasn’t-”

“No, no he was very- It was fine, just…” John shrugs lopsidedly and leans against the wall, “Didn’t know he was here.”

“Mm… Do you… Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Sorry if I was bein’ weird, didn’t notice,” John mumbles and Arthur’s hand settles lightly on his head. 

“Let me know if I need to… I don’t know, just, let me know, yeah?” Arthur whispers, “G’night.”

“Night.”

John watches Arthur walk down the hall to his room and takes a moment to gather himself before continuing towards the dim living room. 

Charles looks up from his book when John enters, and John feels goosebumps form on his arms. 

“Hey,” Charles says softly. 

John rolls his eyes with his back to the older man, it’s the same tone of concern Arthur had just used on him.

“You want some popcorn?” John says as a greeting, going for the pantry. 

“... Sure.”

“Cool.”

\--

Charles is out to ruin him.

That’s the only conceivable reason the older man would get up, and bring back a plate of those stupid, _stupid_ strawberries. 

“Want one?” Charles asks but John can tell it’s just not to be rude. 

“I’m good,” John mutters and unpauses the movie. 

“Thanks… Again,” Charles says with a small smile and John makes a weak sound of acknowledgment, keeping his eyes on the tv. 

"No problem,” John manages after a moment. 

“... Are we good?”

“What?” John looks over at Charles who’s avoiding his gaze now. 

“About… Me seeing you?" Charles asks slowly, uncertain about how to approach this. 

John's nose wrinkles and he sits back into the corner of the couch, frowning at Charles.

"Why?" John asks cautiously.

"Why?" Charles echoes, looks over at him, "Because you've been strange around me all evening and I need to know if I need to apologize or… Or?"

"I said it was _fine_ ," John says quietly, "If you don't have a problem with it…"

"I don't, but you seem to."

John grinds his teeth lightly, setting his jaw crooked in displeasure. 

"John," Charles says slowly, "Seriously, you alright?"

“Look, it’s not personal, alright?” John says roughly, “S’just… Private, I- I wasn’t _expectin_ ’...”

Charles leans in and John’s chest tightens sharply, staring up at the older man from his slouched position as Charles’ body shadows him. 

“What?” John asks breathily, wide-eyed. 

Charles’ arm extends and grabs the remote, the older man sitting back and pausing the movie again. 

John lets out a shaky breath and shoves his hands under himself to sit up. 

“Charles?” John whispers, a nervousness swirling in his gut. 

“Are you mad at me?” Charles asks slowly, then bites into a strawberry, juice and chocolate staining his lips and the thought pierces John’s brain like a bolt of lightning. 

How sweet the older man would taste if they kissed right now. 

“Huh?”

“Are you mad, John?” Charles frowns and sets the plate on the side table, wiping his hands on the tops of his legs. 

“No?”

“Then what are you feeling? Because it doesn’t seem like anything good.”

“... Embarrassed, a bit, I suppose,” John says hoarsely, “But like I said, it ain’t personal.”

“So you’d be the same if Arthur saw you like that?”

“... Well, no,” John swallows thickly, “Arthur’s… Arthur’s different.”

Charles’ brows furrow slightly and John reads the slight hurt in the older man’s dark eyes. 

“I- Not- Shit, Charles, c’mon,” John groans and covers his face roughly with his hand, “Arthur was the first person I told, yeah? And he’s not… He ain’t someone I…”

Charles studies him slowly, brows furrowing further. 

“Ain’t someone you what?”

“ _Like_ ,” John says shakily, keeping his hand over his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Charles’ reaction, realization. 

“... Oh.”

John presses his lips together and fights the urge to curl up completely. 

“Really?”

“... I- Not- I don’t expect you to-” John lets out a rough sound and slowly moves his hand down to peek at Charles, “S’just a crush.”

Charles blinks slowly, glances at the paused screen then back at John. 

“I figured you… Not that many people pay attention, like you do, John,” Charles says quietly, “The strawberries, the coffee, little things… I knew you cared.”

John’s nose wrinkles involuntarily, dropping his eyes as he feels his cheeks heating. 

“Like I was sayin’, I don’t expect you to… Return anythin’, it’ll go away,” John mutters, “Sorry.”

“Do you want it to?”

John blinks and lifts his gaze back up to Charles’.

Sees a warm curiosity there that twists that nervousness in his gut into tentative anticipation. 

“... I don’t know,” John whispers, “Do you?”

Charles’ eyes look past him for a moment, then down him, all the way to feet where they’re buried between two cushions. 

The older man lifts himself up off the couch and moves to stand in front of John, holding his hand down to the younger. 

“Smoke?” Charles murmurs in invitation. 

John lets himself be pulled up. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> purpleboba drew art for this chapter !!!! [here](https://twitter.com/boba_purple/status/1333620708618997762)

Charles is quiet, and John’s too scared to say a damned thing. 

“You like me?” Charles asks softly as he blows out a stream of smoke into the humid night. 

“Yeah,” John whispers, wrapping his arms around his legs, sitting two steps below Charles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Charles murmurs and his fingers tap John’s shoulder, “Come up here, talk to me.”

John exhales shakily and shuffles up, sitting across the step from Charles and watching the older man. 

Charles looks at him for a second and it’s tired and fond like Arthur’s eyes get sometimes. 

Charles picks himself up and moves over until there’s only a few inches between them. 

“Hey,” Charles says quietly and offers his cigarette. 

John takes it and takes a drag and just the tip of his tongue grazes the foreign object in his mouth and he tastes strawberries and chocolate and feels his face flushing darker. 

He passes it back to Charles quickly, who looks at him curiously and steadies the cigarette between his fingers, letting John pull back. 

“I asked you if you wanted your crush on me to go away,” Charles says quietly, “And you said you don’t know.”

“Yeah.”

“What _do_ you know?”

John rubs the top of his knee, down his shin and stares out at the grass for a moment. 

“I know that me gettin’ Dutch to send you strawberries was selfish,” John whispers. 

Charles’ head tilts in confusion and he gestures lightly with the cigarette. 

“How? You’ve only had two of them.”

“Not… I don’t wanna _eat them,”_ John says hoarsely, “I wanna watch _you_ eat them.”

Charles is quiet and John presses his face into his knees, closing his eyes. 

“I wanna… I think about you kissin’ me, and you taste like strawberries and your lips are sticky and-” John breaks off when Charles’ leg nudges his, “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Charles says slowly, “Is this just curiosity or would you actually want to… Be with me?”

“Like… _Together_ together?” John asks hoarsely, “Boyfriends or somethin’?”

“Boyfriends or something,” Charles snorts a small laugh, “Yeah, that’s what I’m asking. You wanna date or just mess around?”

“... Why do I feel like if I say ‘date’ it’ll bite me in the ass?” John lifts his head and squints at the older man. 

“Maybe, depends, if you want… Physical, now? I’m open to it,” Charles holds out the cigarette to John, “If you want… To go out, and be close and let us play this out?”

“Date,” John whispers and takes the cigarette, “Please?”

Charles presses his lips together, studying John, then leans in and presses a gentle kiss to the younger’s cheek. 

“Send me your schedule,” Charles murmurs and pulls back, “Okay? I’ll plan something.”

“Okay.”

\--

Charles texts him an hour before he’s expecting Arthur to pick him up from the farm and informs him they’re going out. 

John stares wildly at his phone for a while then curses under his breath and tries to clean himself up as much as possible. 

He’s been stuck looking up at the underside of a harvester for the entire afternoon, trying to find what’s gotten lodged between all the mechanics that’s a big enough deal to trip the safety sensor in the cab. 

He’s covered in dirt and grease and rust and strips out of his coveralls, pumping his hand full of fast orange and grabbing a rag, hopping up on the side of the harvester to peer at himself in the side mirror and try to get as much of the gunk off him as possible. 

\--

He hops into Charles’ truck and buckles himself in, smiling in greeting at the older man. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Charles sets a small cooler in John’s lap as he shifts into drive and turns back towards the main road, “How was work?”

“Messy,” John says sheepishly, “Somethin’s stuck in the combine’s conveyor and it’s not startin’ ‘til we remove _whatever_ the hell is in there.”

“Oh,” Charles hums sympathetically, “That sounds frustrating.”

John blinks at the genuine sympathy and looks down at the cooler. 

“How was your day?” John asks because he remembers his manners, instead of giving into the curiosity of the mysterious cooler. 

“Fine, _slow,”_ Charles rolls his eyes and turns them out onto the main drive, heading into town, “Arthur dropped a feed bucket in one of the barns.”

“Oops,” John snorts quietly.

“There’s a drink in there for you, and a sandwich, if you’re hungry,” Charles says quietly, “Arthur says you skip lunch when you’re busy.”

“Mm, sometimes,” John murmurs and opens the cooler, cracking the bottle of water and pulling out the little paper-wrapped bundle, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re goin’? Or do I gotta wait?” John asks as he opens the wrapping and blinks at the sandwich, spreading the bread apart to double-check. 

It’s peanut butter and strawberry, and he can see the faintest lift to the corner of Charles’ mouth. 

Arthur’s know him for a decade and he still sometimes forgets that John prefers strawberry jam to grape. 

It’s such a small thing, he wonders if this is what Charles meant when he said he knew John _cared_. 

Now John knows Charles cares too, and he doesn’t know how to react to that. 

So he whispers another thank you and takes a bite.

\--

They drive for much longer than John was expecting. 

Or… Perhaps just for a _long_ time, as John didn’t know what to expect at all. 

They’re on an access road, maybe an hour or more away from home when John hears music, distantly. 

They finally pass the wall of trees only to see an open field, full of lights and tents and John sees a small stage, amplified acoustic guitar coming from a musician at the center of it. 

John blinks widely at the spectacle, leaning towards the window to peer out at the various banners and signs. 

“Is this a festival?” John asks, turning back to Charles who’s maneuvering them into a dirt parking lot, “I didn’t hear anythin’ about it.”

“Mm, it’s technically not in our county, but yes. It’s a local artists’ festival,” Charles explains as he pulls them into an open space. 

John watches Charles put the truck into park then cut the engine. 

“Sound like a good date?”

“I mean- Yeah?” John slips out of the truck after Charles and pauses, when they meet at the back corner of the bed, “Like the music.”

“Figured it’d be nice, ‘fore summer’s over,” Charles murmurs and looks down for a moment, gently picking up John’s hand, “While it’s warm.”

“Agreed,” John says quietly and hesitates. 

Twists his hand in Charles’ and tangles their fingers, squeezing. 

“C’mon,” Charles swings their hands and starts to lead them through the maze of cars towards the field.

\--

John fidgets with the paper band around his wrist as he watches Charles speak with a vendor. 

The crowds are thick and the humidity is increasing as it gets darker and the only light around is the floodlights towering over the field. 

Charles turns around, heading back with a small bag and he smiles, when he finds John in the crowd. 

“Hey,” Charles says softly and comes close, wrapping his arm around John’s waist and guiding the younger out of the crowd, “Sorry, that took longer than-”

“It’s fine, Charles,” John says and he presses as close as he can while they’re walking without tripping up the older man, “What’d you get?”

“A surprise.”

“What?” John huffs and knocks Charles’ ribs with his elbow, “You can’t tell me?”

“It’s a _surprise,”_ Charles says again, rolling his eyes, “You hungry?”

“... A little.”

Charles looks sideways at him curiously and gestures towards the row of food tents. 

“Anything interesting to you?”

John presses his lips together and squints at the signs. 

He’s gotten used to the stares, over the years, but most people in their tiny town know him, are used to his face. 

Here there are strangers and plenty of small children and he refuses to push his hair back or put it up despite it clinging to his neck with sweat, the ends curling. 

“Tacos?” John says, “Can you read their menu from here?”

“You need glasses,” Charles mutters and bring them a bit closer then to the side, of out the way from the main flow of foot traffic, “What meat?”

“Yours,” John mutters and then freezes, feeling his face heat, “Uh… _Jokin’._ Sorry.”

Charles snorts and his fingers dig into John’s waist lightly. 

“Chicken, pork, steak, fish?” Charles murmurs, reading the sign, “I _am_ getting some churros.”

John huffs and mutters quietly about the older man’s sweet tooth then turns his face to look at Charles. 

“Will I be _allowed_ some churros?”

“Maybe.”

“Pork,” John decides and Charles hums lowly in agreement. 

His arm stays around John’s waist as they get into the queue leading up to the vendor. 

\--

There are loads of picnic tables grouped into different areas for resting or eating. 

Charles and John find a smaller table with few people around and sit next to each other. 

John feels the older man’s leg tangle together with his and he ducks his head. 

Finally giving into the urge to tie back his hair into a low ponytail, not quite all of the strands long enough to reach, so he tucks those behind his ears. 

“You alright?” Charles asks and starts to divide their food, nudging John’s drink closer to the younger. 

“Yeah,” John says quietly, pressing his lips together for a moment, “Never done this before.”

“... Date?” Charles asks slowly, “Really?”

“Never… I dunno,” John shrugs and picks up a taco, taking a bite to avoid answering. 

Charles studies him for a moment curiously then starts on his own food. 

\--

They walk back to the truck with a small collection of bags from various artists and a cup full of churros. 

John settles all the bags in the footwell as he climbs in and holds the churros out for Charles. 

The parking lot is darker, away from the floodlights, and John can only just see Charles. 

Charles bites the end off of one then grabs the cup, setting in one of the cupholders and holding the churro out for John, close to the younger’s mouth. 

John swallows and shifts on the bench, leaning it and watching Charles’ expression as he lets the older man feed him. 

It’s sweet and warm and John makes a small, pleased sound. 

Swallowing again and shifting his legs up onto the bench, hesitating. 

“What are you thinking?” Charles murmurs. 

“Wanna kiss you,” John says hoarsely, “Dunno if it’s too soon.”

Charles shrugs, watching him intensely. 

John leans over a middle and steadies himself with a hand on the back of the bench, until their faces are only inches apart. 

Charles tilts his head towards the younger and it’s as good of permission as any. 

John presses his lips to Charles, softly, shyly for a moment. 

Then pulls back. 

“That what you want?”

“No,” John whispers shakily, “I want a lot more than that.”


	3. Chapter 3

Charles’ eyes roam over his face then his hand wraps around John’s waist, squeezing lightly. 

John makes a weak noise and kisses Charles again, shuffling closer and holding the older man’s shoulder as he tentatively parts his lips, runs the tip of his tongue over Charles’ bottom lip. 

Charles tastes sweet, from the churros, and it’s different but it inspires that same thought-

Of sticky, sugary kisses all over his body and Charles tongue brushes his experimentally and John makes a needful noise into the kiss. 

Charles’ other hand comes up and pulls the hairtie from John’s hair, letting it down and using it to guide John’s head into tilting further as he deepens the kiss, sucking at the younger’s lip. 

John shifts his weight slowly, moving one leg to straddle Charles’ lap, fitting between the older man and the steering wheel. 

Pressing their hips together, moving his hand down Charles’ stomach-

And gasping when Charles bites his lip. 

“Slow down,” Charles murmurs and John feels his face flushing darkly in embarrassment. 

He pulls back and sucks on his teeth, not meeting the older man’s eyes. 

“John,” Charles says softly, “It’s okay, but I asked you if you wanted physical, or more-”

“I know-” John whispers hoarsely, “‘M sorry, just… Got caught up.”

Charles hand squeezes his waist and he combs his finger through John’s hair. 

“Do you wanna change your mind?” Charles whispers. 

“No- I-” John shakes his head. 

He slowly crawls out of Charles’ lap and sits a bit stiffly in the middle of the bench, not wanting to move too far. 

Charles’ hand picks his up and turns it over, threading their fingers together and squeezing. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Charles says slowly, “I’m not sure why you… You always act like good things won’t last.”

“They don’t,” John mutters but slowly leans his head on Charles’ shoulder. 

“What if I just wanted to kiss, for an hour?” Charles asks, a bit wry. 

“I’d call it _torture_ ,” John huffs and reaches out to grab another churro, breaking off a small piece for himself and holding the rest out to Charles, who takes it slowly. 

“Why do you do that?”

“Hm?”

“You’re… You can have more, I wasn’t serious,” Charles says quietly. 

“Not that hungry,” John shifts, rubbing his cheek against Charles’ shoulder, “They’re good though.”

Charles turns and presses his lips to the crown of John's head, just lingering there for a moment. 

"I know Arthur pesters you about it, sometimes," Charles murmurs softly into the younger's hair, "Not eating enough."

"I ate a sandwich, three tacos and almost a full churro," John mutters. 

"You didn't eat before work?" 

John's silence answers the question and Charles reaches forward to start the truck, holding the broken churro in his mouth like a cigar as he backs out of the parking spot. 

"Eat another one," Charles murmurs after swallowing a bite, still letting John rest against him, "And put on that seatbelt."

"You're bossier than Arthur," John grumbles but grabs another churro and nibbles on it, clicking the lap belt into place.

"Hm."

"S'fine," John mutters, "Used to it."

"How about a deal?" Charles asks slowly as they're pulling out onto the access road, heading back towards the highway.

"... What kinda deal?" 

"Eat another one of those, and when we get home," Charles says softly, "I'll show you how to be slow."

"What?"

"Kiss you, John, teach you how to savor it," Charles murmurs, "You kiss like you're starving."

"... Sorry?"

"Deal?" 

"I don't- Is this that 'kissin' for an hour' thing? I said that was torture not a reward."

"It will be," Charles says and his hand lands on John's thigh, squeezing, "Promise."

"... Fine."

\--

His stomach hurts, just a bit, slightly past full enough that it's making him ache. 

Charles pulls into the driveway and John reaches for the bags. 

Follows Charles into the house and sets everything on the dining table. 

"Arthur not home?" John asks quietly, as he turns on a couple lights. 

"Think he's helping Hosea with something." 

"Oh- Should we-?" 

"He's fine, John, nothing serious," Charles says and wraps his arm around John's waist, like he did at the festival. 

Starts pulling John out of the kitchen, towards the hallway to their rooms. 

"Yours or mine?" Charles asks jokingly, "How tired are you?"

"I- Not really at all, why?" 

"Want you comfortable."

"... Mine," John whispers after a moment and Charles moves them to John's door, opening it.

Nudging the younger towards the bed.

"... Can I take my jeans off?" 

"Go ahead," Charles says, lightly amused.

John ducks his head and tugs off his jeans, folding them and setting them off to the side on his dresser. 

"Did you like being in my lap?" Charles asks quietly, moving over to John's bed. 

John turns to look at him. 

Slowly nods. 

Charles climbs onto the bed, sitting in the middle of the headboard and gestures John closer. 

John swallows thickly and climbs on after Charles, holding onto the older man's shoulder as he straddles Charles. 

"Hi," John whispers, looking down ever so slightly at Charles. 

"Hey," Charles says with a small smile, "Come here."

The older man's hand cup either side of John's face and pull him down, pressing their lips together. 

John lets Charles control the pace and it's _slow_.

Torture, like he predicted. 

Charles' hands are warm on his neck, and he can feel the stiff folds on the older man's jeans against him through his boxers. 

John makes a small noise when Charles sucks on his lower lip, biting and teasing it lightly. 

John parts his lips, moves his hands down to steady himself against Charles' chest, leaning in. 

Charles smiles against his mouth and John closes his eases tighter. 

Holding himself tense, despite the urge to rock his hips and initiate _anything_. 

Charles' fingertip traces the shell of his ear and the older man deepens the kiss slowly, threading his other fingers into John's hair and tilting the younger's head. 

"Still torture?" Charles murmurs and doesn't give John the chance to answer before licking into the younger's mouth, moving the hand not in John's hair down to the younger's waist, hip, thigh.

John whines quietly into it, stopping himself from pressing or pushing for more, trying to let Charles lead but he wants to _touch_.

John hesitantly slides his hands down to Charles' chest, not squeezing or teasing the older man's nipples through the thin cotton but just-

Resting, easy, feeling Charles slow, steady heartbeat under his hands. 

John makes a noise of protest and pulls back slightly. 

"How are you so _calm_?" John asks hoarsely, "Jesus, I can feel your heart, _s'calm_ , like we ain't even doin' anythin'."

"I'm _enjoying_ you, John," Charles says slowly, "This isn't… I'm not _unaffected_."

John meets Charles' eyes for a moment just to see the honesty there then closes his eyes, dropping his face to Charles' shoulder. 

"Okay," John whispers. 

"We don't… I want you to realize that I'm not going anywhere," Charles murmurs and leans his head on John's. 

"I know- But why does that… Why does that mean we can't do anythin' now?" John mutters, "I don't understand why you don't want to."

"Because I don't want to be someone you mess around with, John," Charles says and moves his hands down to John's lower back, "If you want that, okay, we can mess around a couple times and that'll be it."

John's quiet, keeping his face hidden. 

"Or we can do something you aren't used to, but I think would be better for both of us," Charles says quietly. 

"Are you gonna get mad if I keep complainin'?" 

"Maybe."

"I… I had fun," John whispers shakily, "And I like you touchin' me, holdin' me."

"... You mean now? Or at the festival?"

"At the… In public," John whispers, "Bein' obvious… Like you don't mind being seen with me like _that_."

Charles is quiet for a long moment then presses his lips hard to John’s temple. 

“Give me a couple weeks, John,” Charles says, slow and serious, “And you’ll never doubt that you’re worth being seen.”

John doesn’t breath for a long moment then sits back in Charles’ lap, frowning at the older man. 

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“You realize you’re doin’ me a favor,” John says slowly, “That _this_ isn’t…”

Charles’ head tilts to the side, curious. 

“This… You don’t have to-” John says hoarsely, “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Charles whispers, “What, specifically?”

“Why- If you don’t _want_ me, and you _know_ \- And you could have _anyone_ \- So _why?”_

Charles leans back, inhaling deeply and sighing. 

“A couple weeks,” Charles repeats. 

“Answer somethin’, first,” John whispers, sounding too close to desperate. 

“Okay.”

“What’s my favorite color?”

Charles’ brows furrow lightly and he stares at John. 

“Charles… Please.”

“It’s gray,” Charles says slowly, “‘Because it’s the color that comes before better things.’”

It’s a direct quote, something John’s said a half dozen times. 

Something he’s thought over and over since he was a child and he saw the gray of the bus that dropped him off at the van der Linde farm. 

Since it was the sky that came before every rainbow. 

The of every fish he caught and road he traveled and tires that carried him and hooves that pounded the ground underneath him-

All before better things. 

John swallows and nods roughly. 

“Arthur would say red, because you like it, you wear it, but it isn’t your _favorite_ , I don’t know that Dutch could come up with an answer,” Charles says slowly, “Hosea would know.”

“You know.”

“I do,” Charles nods and sits up slightly, settling his hands on John’s bare thighs, where the boxers have ridden up, “And you know mine.”

“You don’t have one,” John protests cautiously and exhales when Charles smiles up at him, “... Oh.”


End file.
